‘Forgive me, Banan,’ she said, trying to speak in a soothing voice.
‘I give you everything, Giselle, and still, you cannot warm to me? I have tried to be kind and patient, and I could be good to you if only you would learn to be affectionate.’
‘I am trying, Banan it’s just that I don’t like it here at court, with all these strangers staring at me.’
He looked at her, and his face softened into a benign smile. ‘How could they not stare when you are so breathtaking.’ Banan crossed the room and took her in his arms like a tender lover. ‘You are all mine now.’
His hand stroking her hair made Giselle want to flinch, but she steeled herself not to. She had tried to fight back at first, shouting that she would rather die than lie with him, but it made no difference. Even when he put a knife to her throat, she had still resisted. But then he had told her what would happen to Lyall if she did not obey. His words were scorched into her heart.
‘I have the King’s ear and his favour. Cross me, and I will denounce Lyall Buchanan as a traitor. Someone gave warning to Wulversmeade that we were coming to take it. I can say it was him, and, trust me, I will be believed. Lord Douglas will gut him, along with his stinking family, all of them. You saw what happens to traitors.’
‘No, they won’t believe you,’ she had said, back then, when she thought she had a chance.
‘Do you want to wager with his life, Giselle? Make your choice. What is it to be? Let me have my way or send Lyall to the executioner’s block.’
‘Do what you will, but then take my life, for it is ruined.’
‘Because of your pride, it will be hard for you to surrender to me, but you will go on Giselle, mark me. Should you fall from my walls, or drive a knife into your own heart, it will have the same outcome for Buchanan. I will denounce him, and he will die.’
‘How can you do this? You are a monster, you have no soul.’
‘I am an eater of souls, and yours is mine. You will stay with me, and be happy with your lot.’
Now, all hope was gone. Every second with this man was a moment longing for death, and she couldn’t even risk that. She had to stay alive and endure Banan so that Lyall would be safe.
His mouth sought hers and Giselle took her mind away, as she always did. Just think of home, not Banan, not what he was doing, not his hands on her skin, his harsh voice in her ear, his lust, his fury.
She must not think of Lyall. Even his name, sliding through her mind, was torture. Giselle spent every day hoping he would not come and put himself in danger, hoping he would not come and see how far she had fallen, hoping he would not come and look on her with distaste. But still, Giselle longed to see his face. She would embrace death if she could just have that one, last thing.
Giselle squeezed her eyes tight shut and pictured Ravensworth, with its pale, stone walls. When the sun hit it, late in the day, it took on a warm glow, and, from a distance, it looked like a jewel nesting in that soft, green valley surrounded by wooded hills. She thought of the river, not fierce, running gently by, with the willow trees leaning over and brushing the surface. She tried to remember sunny days and going down there to fish with her best friend, Anne. The midges would bite late in the day, but the trout and perch loved to snap at them when they hit the surface of the water. She remembered hauling a slimy, slapping fish onto the bank and urging Anne to pick it up for her. The girl had touched it and then shrieked with revulsion. She shrieked and would not stop. Her shriek became a scream, turning the day to darkness and cold. Screaming, screaming.
Banan’s hand came over her mouth, and she realised it was not Anne screaming, but her, and no one to hear.
‘Every time I go inside you, Lyall Buchanan suffers it,’ he said softly. ‘It kills his pride day by day. I am eating his heart, one piece at a time.’